


it seems like once again you've had to greet me with goodbye

by tardisofcamelot



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, M/M, Spoilers for The Death Cure, TDC broke me, letters and crying, newtmas angst of course
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-10 13:30:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13502489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tardisofcamelot/pseuds/tardisofcamelot
Summary: Thomas reads Newt's first-- and last-- letter.





	it seems like once again you've had to greet me with goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> spoiler alert sort of, for the movie. i mean i think you all know what happens but... yeah.

Thomas watches the flames dance before his eyes from a safe distance, tucked away from the mass of bodies in the midst of a celebration. Sitting by his side is Minho, looking the most calm he's ever been-- hands clasped over knees, the corners of his mouth quirked up into a half-smile. 

A comfortable silence blankets the two of them, and Thomas feels safe for the first time in... well, forever, it seems. The silence, however, is broken by a rustling movement from Minho. When he breaks his gaze away from the fire, he sees the other man holding something in hand, with a loop of string dangling from between his fingers.

"I found this on you, when you were knocked out. I kept it safe for you, just in case," Minho muses. Thomas gives a nod of assent, muttering  _thanks_.

And with that, Minho leaves him to his own devices.

Thomas examines the weight in his hand, the weight of a small metal tube, almost bullet-like in shape. He grazes his thumb over the surface, letting dirtied fingertips feel for themselves. Exhaling once, then twice, he twists the cap off.

Stuck inside is what looks like a roll of paper, and Thomas tugs it out. The roll unfurls to reveal what it really is: two sheets of yellowed paper, stained with dust and tear stains (which Thomas looks over, for now).

 _ **Dear Thomas,**  _it reads.

**_This is the first letter I can remember writing. Obviously I don’t know if I’ve written any letters before the Maze. But even if it’s not my first, it’s likely to be my last._ **

At that, he blinks. His eyes heat up with the promise of tears, glazing over as they conjure an image: a boy with hair the shade of the sand that Thomas's toes are dipping into, with a crinkle by the sides of his eyes-- eyes as dark and  _tempting_ as chocolate (Thomas now remembers what sweet it was that Newt's eyes reminded him of)-- with nimble hands and a structure so lithe and graceful. 

**_I want you to know that I’m not scared-- about dying, anyways, or forgetting. Losing myself to this virus, that’s what scares me._ **

He knows. He knows it all too well; Newt had stared him straight in the eye and whispered, "Please, Tommy,  _please._ Kill me."

 **_So every night, I’ve been saying their names out loud: Alby, Winston, Chuck... and I just repeat it over and over like a prayer. And it all comes flooding back._  ** **_J_ _ust the little things, like when the sun used to hit the glade at that perfect moment, right before it’d slip behind the walls. And I remember the taste of Frypan’s stew. I’d never thought that I’d miss that stuff so much._ **

Thomas lets a chuckle escape past the lump in his throat. It is a welcome sound that grounds him.

**_And I remember you._ _I remember you first coming up in the box, a scared little greenie who couldn’t even remember his own name. But, from the moment you ran into the Maze, I knew that I would follow you anywhere._ **

"The others... they  _may_ have their doubts, and that's fine, but they will follow you,  _anywhere."_

Thomas can recall the memory with ease; they had been out in the Scorch. He lets his eyes come to a close, and he allows the distant heat of the fire, the crackle of the flames, to bring him back to that evening in the Scorch. 

When he doesn't quite feel like he's leaning over an endless abyss, Thomas dares to open his eyes again to continue reading.

**_And I have. We all have._ **

He watches the others who had followed him, _survivors_ , enveloped by the glow of the fire. He notes that, for once, they all feel more than lab rats. Here, they all feel human.

 **_If I could do it all over again, I would, and I wouldn’t change a thing._  ** **_My hope for you, is when you’re looking back, years from now, is that you’ll say the same._ **

A flurry in his chest weighs him down, and Thomas  _feels_ his answer from inside:  _Of course._ He'd never change a thing, not for the world. With the exception of one.

**_The future is in your hands now, Tommy, and I know you’ll find a way to do what’s right. You always have._** **_T_ _ake care of everyone for me. And take care of yourself._ **

**_You deserve to be happy._ **

_So do you_ , Thomas thinks. A tear forces its way out, and the rest follow through.

More tear drops stain the paper, joining those of Newt's and making the ink feather and bleed.

**_Thank you for being my friend. Goodbye, mate._ **

And through it all, a smile forms from trembling lips.  _Goodbye, Newt._

**Author's Note:**

> newtmas trash (aka me) is back. with more newtmas. because guess who watched tdc today??? this girl. guess who bawled and exited the cinema with red, puffy eyes??? this girl. of course. at this point, writing ficlets or drabbles or whatever is just my way of coping. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> my boys deserved BETTER.
> 
> title from arctic monkeys - 505


End file.
